


Housefire

by Carolus



Series: Før jeg brenner ned [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: 15:15-01:01, Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, PAUSE, mentions of mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolus/pseuds/Carolus
Summary: “My life is better without mentally ill people in it.”Only when he comes home does he realise what a ridiculously hypocritical statement that is, and how insensitive he must have come off as to Even.(Two extra scenes to The Little Match Boy, tying up closer to canon than the previous work. Whilst still readable, this will probably look confusing if you haven't read the first part of the series.)





	Housefire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. A few of you lovelies requested a couple of extra scenes to this verse and came with some very good suggestions for what you'd like to see more of. Whilst I do have a couple of other ideas that would fit this verse, I figured that these two would stand fine on their own.
> 
> Unbetaed, so all my mistakes are my own.

**2nd November 2016**

_ “My life is better without mentally ill people in it.” _

Only when he comes home does he realise what a ridiculously hypocritical statement that is, and how insensitive he must have come off as to Even. The guy who actually bothers to call people out on their harmful generalisations and gives Isak unimpressed looks when he doesn’t recycle his beer cans. A guy who  _ cares _ . 

But it’s so easy to slip into old habits, and for his entire life Isak has felt the need to organise people in boxes in order to protect himself. Boxes that started out as a comforting way for a little boy to understand the people around him, but later as their walls grew felt more like they were suffocating him.

His mother belonged to one box, a box for crazy people, who’ll scare him and make him hurt. Gay people had another box - a box he’s feared for so long and only recently started to very tentatively accept his own place in, although the thought still terrifies him. Having only seen his therapist twice, he’s not even close to start thinking about feeling comfortable with addressing himself as ‘mentally ill’.

He’s not sure if other people feel like he does, but considering this compartmentalisation is the only way he’s been able to get through his childhood, he can’t allow those insecurities to stop him.

So when Even had enquired about his family, Isak’s panic had quickly extinguished the warm feeling in his chest seeing Even had brought on. He’d got scared, not wanting Even to judge him for his family’s shortcomings and maybe figure out that he’d be better off with Sonja. So instead of saying something along the lines of ‘ _ it’s complicated _ ’, he’d resorted to the usual defense mechanism of getting past the topic in as few words as possible, allowing people to draw their own conclusions with the help of their own boxes (which he’s still not even sure exists). It’s a risky move considering those conclusions might bring Isak just as much pain as confession would, or come back to bite him in the ass later. But then again he’s always been a coward opting to take the easiest way out and dealing with the consequences later.

And it’s not like Isak’s comparable to his mum. Isak keeps up with real life. He remembers to feed and bathe himself, and he doesn’t spend hours screaming and tearing his hair out, terrifying his offspring. Nor does he have periods where he quite simply blanks out, staring at the same spot on the wall for hours with dead eyes. Isak is a functional human being goddamnit, and nothing like his mother.

( _ A small voice in his head murmurs that out of the two of them, Isak is more likely to seriously hurt somebody. He is quick to quiet that voice with copious amounts of alcohol whenever it presents.) _

Realising that he’s failing to persuade himself, Isak goes for a different approach. He’s desperate for the sticky feeling of guilt in his chest to go away. He want to be able to devote his entire focus on how nice it will be to see Even again, not this.

Even’s most likely already forgotten what he said by now, he reasons. It’s not like casual stigma against mentally ill people isn’t a part of everyday life already, so Even probably didn’t think too much about what Isak’s said. What with the portrayal of mental illness through media, it’s easy to accept why Isak would want to get away from his mother, and Even probably understands that. He’s a film fan, so maybe he’s watched the trailer to Split recently? Sure that film left Isak feeling sick to his stomach, but if somebody like Even watched it he’d probably just think that it’s common sense to stay away from crazy people.

The only reason why Even would negatively react to what Isak said was if he either was mentally ill himself, which Isak deems highly unlikely considering how well put together Even appears, or if he also had experience with mentally ill people around him, in which case he’d probably understand where Isak is coming from.

( _ He ignores the fact that his therapist and Jonas are the only ones to know about his problems and that to the rest of the worlds he appears as put together as a teenager can be, or that not everybody is like him and uses every opportunity to flee from their problems.) _

**3rd December 2016**

_ “He’s manic, that’s what happening right now.” _

Left alone on the sidewalk after Sonja’s stormed off, Isak still struggles to make sense of her words. It’s like that sentence had shut his mind down, and he’d only vaguely been able to take in the rest of what she said - something about the Quran and smoking weed.

Even can’t be like him, can he? Does Even also feel like he has to give in to his impulses and that there is no such alternative as resisting? Can he also feel the thoughts compelling him to do it get louder and louder in his brain, or feel the excitement thrumming through his body as if thousands of electric jolts were going through his nerves at once? Isak just can’t put those characteristics onto Even. Enthusiastic, yet always with an air of calm nonchalance, that’s Even. Not a mess like Isak who feels like everyday is a losing battle against his own mind.

A quiet voice in the back of his head tells him that Isak doesn’t know nearly enough about psychiatry to know whether Even’s mania is the same as the kind Isak feels. He’s spent so long trying his very best to avoid everything in that field, terrified of what he would find that by now even the most basic terms sounds greek to him. All he knows is that ‘manic’ sounds far too similar to Isak’s own diagnosis for his comfort.

His head is filled to the brim with thoughts and questions fighting for his attention, making it hard for him to focus properly on any of them. It’s as if a thick fog is slowly clouding his mind, making it hard for him to focus on anything.

A young man bumps into him, and his ‘ _ watch it’  _ briefly breaks Isak out of his trance. At least enough for him to move from the middle of the sidewalk and sink down by one of the trees lining the sides of it. There are benches a few metres in front of him that he could have sat on, but right now he doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be able to get up from the cold hard ground again. Not even as he vaguely registers the moisture from yesterday’s rainfall trapped in the leaves lining the ground seep through his clothing, making his already cold ass wet as well.  

Needing the comfort of something familiar in order to make his racing thoughts quiet for a moment, Isak fiddles for his trustworthy cigarettes in his pockets. It’s only when he comes up with a lighter, but no cigarettes that he realises he’s been digging through Even’s pockets instead of his own. As insignificant it is, or maybe exactly because of that, the discovery still makes bile rise in his throat, and before he can react there’s sticky vomit covering his front and the taste of gastric acid in his mouth. He uses his sleeve to wipe away the worst of it covering his mouth, but can’t keep focus long enough to do something about the mess on his shirt.

A passing lady sends him a pitying stare, but passes him by without stopping. She’s probably thinking that he’s one of the many teenagers who’s had too much to drink and has to sober up outside so that their parents won’t notice that they’ve been drinking. If only.

God, Isak wishes his problems could be as simple as that.

Looking down at the lighter clasped wakly in his hand, he’s reminded of his initial mission. He slowly reaches into the pockets again, this time making sure that it’s actually his own and not Even’s, and pulls up the pack of cigarettes. They’re slightly crumpled from having received Isak and Even’s combined weight on top of them earlier at the hotel, but once he reaches inside the box, the cigarettes themselves are fine. He lights one up and sticks it in his mouth, spending the time in between exhales to study the grotesque image of cancer-ridden lungs on the front of the packet.

One cigarette turns to two, which again turns to three, to four, and suddenly he’s chain smoked five cigarettes.

It’s more than he usually smokes in a day, and as a result his lungs and throat are aching. He doesn’t choke or cough though, which is either a miracle on this godforsaken day or a flashing red light regarding the state of his lungs.

However, as shitty as his throat feels, the cigarettes do their job of clearing his head and although still hazy, he now feels slightly more connected to himself again. At least enough to fish out his phone and open the lock screen. He briefly considers calling because that would do the job quicker, but when even clearing his throat makes him whimper, he quickly discards that idea.

**_Til Eskild:  
_ ** _ Are you home? _

Whilst waiting for Eskild to reply he stands up on shaky legs, using the tree as support. For a brief second he considers leaving Even’s clothes by the trunk, if only for it to serve as a pretentious symbol to the end of their brief relationship, if you can even call it that. It feels like a shit move though, so with a sigh he picks it up and brings it to his chest, effectively hiding the curdled vomit covering his front.  

****_Fra Eskild:  
_ _ No, I’m out having a beer _ _   
_ _ What’s happening? _

****_Til Eskild:  
_ _ Everything’s gone to hell _ __   
  


He quickly answers Eskild's worried message about his whereabouts and shoves the phone back in his pocket. All he wants right now is to get home and continue his freakout in the safety of his room.


End file.
